Redemption 4

He washed, dressed and fed me as if I was a doll, and he made me wear diapers during the day too. He loved to brush my hair and arrange it in braids with colorful bows (…) He would take me in his arms, kiss me, compliment me how pretty I was, and make me sit on his lap. He read his newspaper that way – giving me the funny pages – and waited until I had wet my diapers. Then his hand would slip into my diapers and stroking my private parts he would gently scold me for being a naughty little baby.

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You will find the preceding chapters of this story in “categories” under “Redemption”, with the different chapters in reversed order. To find the first chapter you just have to scroll down to the bottom.

Chapter 4

One morning, after having taken another beating for having wet the bed, I decided to leave. I knew a boy, a couple of years older than me, who was squatting with some friends in an abandoned house. He was a small time dealer and I had been to his place on a couple of occasions to buy dope. He had invited me once to come and live with them. As he seemed kind I decided to take him on on that invitation.

When I arrived at the place there were only a couple of junkies there, who looked at me suspiciously, and I had to wait for a long time before my friend arrived. When I told him the purpose of my visit he seemed annoyed but nevertheless said I could choose one of the empty corners to put my stuff. When I told him I had no stuff he looked surprised: “On what are your going to sleep then?” I hadn’t thought about that but told him not to worry.

That night I slept on the floor. The following day however my friend helped me to find a number of rags and other soft material to make myself a bed. When I had left Lewis’s place I hadn’t taken anything but the clothes I was wearing. Not even plastic pants. So my little nest was soon reeking of piss.

If it hadn’t been for drugs I could have survived by begging and by whatever food I could find looking into garbage bins. But I needed money for my habit and soon found myself doing the streets. By that time I had become enough streetwise as to realize not to go where the other whores were walking, as I would then fall into the hands of some pimp. But waiting at the entrances of parking lots on quiet back streets, was not the most efficient way to recruit clients. And not having a place to take my clients my services in general were limited to a quick blow job in the car, for which I got a couple of bucks.

After a few weeks I went back to Lewis. He was incredibly happy to see me. He took me in his arms, and tears running down his cheeks, told me how much he had missed me, and promised he would never treat me bad again. Crying as much as him I promised I wasn’t going to run away ever again. For some time we relived the happiness of the time we had first met. As I found a job as a waitress, and we cut down on drugs, and Lewis made some good deals, we felt rich for a while. But it didn’t last. Soon it started all over again.

The second time I decided to run away it was less impulsive. I began telling Alistair, my pedophile client, about how difficult live with Lewis was for me. And as I had hoped, after some weeks of hesitation, he asked if I would want to live with him. I did as if I was surprised and thanked him for the offer but told him I couldn’t just accept to live on his back, as I couldn’t pay him in any way. He insisted, telling me he would be only too happy to have his little baby girl all the time with him without having to pay for it by the hour. Despite his insistence I refused.

However a few weeks later, after Lewis had abused me again, I tearfully asked Alistair if his offer was still valid. The result was that he gave me his address and that the next day I took the bus to the suburb where he was living, carrying a large bag with my stuff, having made sure to have packed my plastic pants and some of the infantile dresses my new benefactor loved.

My life with Alistair was even sicker than everything what had happened to me before. He was very kind and provided me with everything I needed, including my daily fix. But he wanted me to act as a 5 or 6 year old little kid, and treated me accordingly.

He washed, dressed and fed me as if I was a doll, and he made me wear diapers during the day too. He loved to brush my hair and arrange it in braids with colorful bows. As my stay with him was an absolute secret I had to stay inside at all time, never to show me in the garden or even in front of a window. During the day he usually went to work leaving me alone all day. Of course I changed into adult clothes and spend the day doing the household and watching television. But I made sure I always put on diapers and infantile clothes before he came home.

He constantly ordered new clothes from catalogues. He soon new I fitted in clothes for eleven or twelve year olds, and he always choose short models. As I was tall, measuring 5, 7 feet (175 cm), those skirts and dresses barely covered my diapers, which was what he was clearly after.

He would take me in his arms, kiss me, compliment me how pretty I was, and make me sit on his lap. He read his newspaper that way – giving me the funny pages – and waited until I had wet my diapers. Then his hand would slip into my diapers and stroking my private parts he would gently scold me for being a naughty little baby.

Of course I had to satisfy him sexually, but from the moment we lived together he refused to have normal sex, saying he was not going to rape his little girl. However for some strange reason in his twisted mind, making “his little girl” suck his dick was an acceptable practice

We lived in a small but well kept house in a green area. Although quiet simple I had never lived in such a nice environment. Being rather clumsy I regularly broke things. In the beginning he told me not to worry, but little by little my clumsiness became a source of irritation and when I had made stains on the couch or so, he would scold me and punish me by either make me stand in the corner or spank me.

Both punishments followed a fixed pattern. For the first punishment he made me stand with my face to the corner holding a book high above my head. He would watch television or read all the while keeping an eye on me, and each time he thought I had let down my arms too much he would add 5 more minutes. Sometimes I would be there for more than an hour, until the tears were running down my cheeks. He would then tell me to come towards him and make me say I was sorry for what had happened and promise I would be more careful.

The spankings were worse. He made me undress except for my undershirt – my breasts were still so small that I never wore a bra – and then made me bend over the table on which he had put a pillow in which he made me burrow my face. He spanked my bare bottom with his bare hands or a wooden utensil until my cheeks were all red. Sometimes I couldn’t sit for several days. After the spanking I wasn’t allowed to dress as he clearly enjoyed the sight of my bare red bottom.

If there were punishments there were also rewards. When we were home together he wanted me to play kiddy games. Coloring, puzzles, building blocks, learning children’s rhymes, but what le loved most was watching me play with dolls. He bought me life size baby dolls and I had to feed, wash, dress, walk them. To motivate me to do this he would reward me for “being a good girl” by providing me drugs.

Another thing he loved was “to play school”. He had discovered how poor my writing, reading and calculating skills were and found big pleasure in having me demonstrate how dumb I was. He made me read aloud from books for beginning readers and write in a cahier with double lines – those in which the letters have to be written between two lines-. When I made mistakes or the letters were not nice enough I was in for another punishment. The same with calculating exercises: long divisions, multiplications of large numbers or even subtractions had always been nightmares for me. Pretending to help me overcome my lack of schooling he would give me “homework” to do while he was at work. Having him review my work while I had to stand next to him with my thumb in my mouth was one of the most humiliating experiences in my life. Each error he found was underlined with red and I had to watch anxiously, knowing that with each error found the chance for a bad spanking grew. But the final verdict was arbitrary anyway. At times he would suddenly stop correcting and calling me lazy would have me strip on the spot and spank me. But at other times even when the page was all red he would look at me smiling and say that he knew I did my best, that it wasn’t my fault that I was a little bit stupid. I still don’t know which I found worse.

On week-ends he would sometimes take me out. I had to get into the car in the garage and lie down on the floor until we had driven for at least half an hour. On those outings I was diapered of course, but dressed less conspicuously. Usually he made me wear a short pleaded skirt, and a girlie shirt in summer, or a blouse and sweater in winter. Always with short socks and Mary-Jane shoes. People who saw us together must have thought we were father and daughter.

I lived this way for almost a year, having my 17th birthday during that period. I can’t say I was happy being treated as a 6 year old but I was fed, clothed and I had a clean bed to sleep in. I was convinced that I could not live on my own, that I was too stupid or too childish, that I needed someone to take care of me and protect me. Sometimes when I had to play with my dolls I felt degraded and I planned to leave the next day, but each time I remembered how I lived before and decided I could better stay. I was still in love with Lewis – unbelievable but true – and missed him, but at the same time I was too afraid of him, and of having to confront the big bad world again.

When summer arrived I convinced Alistair to let me go out, inventing a story that we could tell, that I was his 14 year old niece staying with him for the summer holidays. Being free to enter and leave the house was a world of difference.

One of my new found pleasures was to go to the neighborhood shop. Often there were some 14, 15 year old kids hanging around in front of the store, and after one year of social isolation I craved to have contact with them. But my pleated skirts, short socks, Mary Jane shoes, and my hair in braids, caused them to make fun of me. So I soon avoided the hours they were usually there.

The shop keeper on the other hand was extremely nice. When the other kids made fun of me, he told me to pay no attention to them. We soon became friends and every time I went to the shop we had a nice chat. One day he asked me if I would be interested in doing a babysitting job. One of his clients was urgently looking for someone to take care of her 7 and 9 year old daughters for a couple of weeks while she went working. Being asked for the first time in my life to take responsibility over someone else was a big surprise. Of course I was attracted to the job, but also very afraid. Me, little pissing Katie, taking care of some kids? Could I do that? Blushing and stammering I answered that I would think about it, and would talk to my uncle.

At first Alistair said he didn’t want me to do it, but for once I insisted and after a while he agreed to meet the mother and the two girls. We rehearsed our little story and walked over to the indicated address. We were received by a friendly, good looking lady, who introduced us to her two angelic looking little daughters. She explained that she was looking for someone to be with her daughters after lunch time. In the mornings someone else took care of them but that person unexpectedly couldn’t stay for the afternoons.

I was wearing my usual pleated skirt and I must have made a good impression to the mother, but at the same time she asked if I had done babysitting before, wondering aloud if I wasn’t too young. To my surprise Alistair came to my rescue. He said I was a very responsible girl for my age, and it would be only for a couple of hours anyway as during summer months he came home early and could keep an eye on the 3 of us. This seemed to reassure the mother and it was agreed that the next Monday I would start.

I had immediately understood Alistair’s motivation and, – finally at 17 beginning to be a little less naïve – understood I would have to keep an eye on him in stead of the other way round.

But from the very first day I sensed things would go wrong although the beginning of that first afternoon went very well. The two girls were very sweet and well behaved. We went along extremely well and I really enjoyed being responsibly. When Alistair came home much earlier than usual I was not really surprised and, although a little disappointed that I was not in charge anymore, I didn’t really mind. Maybe I was a little proud showing how well I was doing. Alistair sat down with a drink and a newspaper but I knew he wasn’t reading. He preferred to watch the 3 of us playing.

The girls both followed gymnastic classes and were showing me what they could do. The sight of the two little girls standing on their heads, with their skirts falling over their heads, baring their panties, must have been too irresistible for him as he came over and proposed to help straighten their legs by holding their feet. He winked at me, and I turned red in anger and confusion. I don’t know if he understood the cause of my confusion but he smiled as he asked if I wanted him to help me too to stand on my head. I turned even redder. If I did he would notice I wasn’t wearing diapers and I would be in for a severe spanking. But if I had been wearing diapers then he must have know I didn’t want the girls to know that. Panicking I stammered some excuse and ran away, leaving my two protégés with the sick bastard. After a while I calmed down, put on my diapers and rejoined the others.

Later that evening he confronted me: “You were not wearing diapers this afternoon, were you?” I admitted I hadn’t and he asked me why I had been disobedient. As I had no excuse I looked at the floor without answering. He told me to take off my clothes and I knew I was going to be spanked. Tearfully I pleaded not to do it, promising I would never forget to wear my diapers again. He hesitated, and then answered I was lucky the afternoon had put him in a good mood. He took me on his lap, put my thumb in my mouth, and had me put my head on his shoulder, as he whispered in my ear that he loved his little baby girl. I felt so sick.

The next day things got worse. Alistair had come home very early again and towards the end of the afternoon he suggested I would put the two girls in bath “so that they would be all clean when there mother came home”. Having played outside they were indeed dirty so I went upstairs with both of them and had them undress to get into the bath together. They were not used to that and thought it fun sitting in bath together. Alistair entered and left the bathroom a couple of times as if he was looking for something. At first the oldest girl looked somewhat embarrassed by his entering the room but as he did as if he was not paying any attention to us she relaxed. The third time she was just standing up to wash herself and, looking straight in her face, he told her she was going to be a very pretty girl when she would grow up. The girl blushed very hard, crossed her legs, covered her private parts with one hand, trying to hide her two barely emerging breasts with the other. Alistair smiled and left the bathroom.

The third day it was raining and some time after Alistair had come home – very early again – the girls were beginning to get bored. Alistair suggested we play Twister. He had bought the game some time before and the two of us had played it a couple of times together, but in general he preferred to have me play it alone, exposing my diapers, or my bare bottom depending on what mood he was in, while he watched. As this time I was wearing my diapers I turned red again and stammered that I didn’t like to play Twister, but the two girls were enthusiastic and Alistair got out the game. I refused to play of course and watched as the 3 of them were playing, with Alistair having his arms and legs all over the girls, and having them fall over him. At a certain moment he was lying on his back with the little one lying on her back on top of him, and I saw how his hand went underneath her skirt and how he tickled her belly. The girl twisted and giggled innocently. The girls seemed to love the dirty old man. When they were tired playing the 3 of them sat down on the couch and he put on a DVD. The little one was sitting on his lap, and the oldest one was sitting next to him as he held his arm around her. She was so absorbed by the movie that she didn’t notice he lowered his arm and held his hand on her bare leg, slowly pushing her skirt higher and higher.

I was disgusted and alarmed. I felt responsible for what was happening to the girls and didn’t know how to stop it.

Later that evening I pleaded to leave the girls alone but smilingly he said he didn’t do anything wrong and the girls loved him. The next morning, when he was gone working, I made my bags and left the house, passing by at the little girls’ home, telling the babysitter I had to leave unexpectedly and wouldn’t be able to baby-sit the following days. The lady got mad, saying I couldn’t just do that, they were counting on me, but I turned around, and left without answering. How was I going to explain my reasons?

Once on the bus I felt a big relief and suddenly the anticipation to get back to Lewis filled me with immense joy. I felt so elated that I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t I taken that decision much earlier. But at the same time I was anxious about the way he was going to receive me after almost a year of absence as I felt guilty of having run away and for never haven given any news.

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2 comments on “Redemption 4”

Very sad story that someone would molest & abuse a girl like that. I would’ve treated her like a queen, only asking that she wear diapers 24/7 & never think of owning a pair of panties ever again. Poor girl suffered such humiliation & abuse! I hope this isn’t what’s happening to that beautiful girl in your picture blog who’s forced to wear diapers.

This story is fiction, so don’t get too worried. Although it is partly based on a short movie (which might have been based on actual facts) , partly on the real life story of someone I met on the net, and partly on my imagination.